


Reunions

by SometimeLonely



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Background Character Death, Bigotry & Prejudice, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, Not Jean Grey Friendly, Reunions, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SometimeLonely/pseuds/SometimeLonely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve was in love when he went into the ice, but it wasn't with Peggy.  Waking up in the new millennium he wasn't only mourning his old life, but mourning the loss of the man he'd thought he'd spend the rest of that life with.  And it was all too much for him. Luckily enough for him, the man he loved just happens to be a mutant.  And living in upstate New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings for the first part: Steve is suicidal at the beginning of this. It will get better, but if this is going to affect you adversely, please just skip this one over.
> 
> I have a tendency to pair Steve with everyone. I love him. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment and if this is worth continuing. I would appreciate it! Thanks!
> 
> For The Avengers the fandom is mainly the movies. For the X-Men it's rather ambiguous. My own version of them, if you will, so some of the ages will be wonky and some characters will not interact with each other in expected ways. But, I guess that's kind of what fandom is for. :)

It was a pleasant surprise to Steve that upstate New York in the autumn was almost exactly the same as it had been when he was young. Riding his bike with the cool air blowing through his hair and the sound of the leaves crunching under his tires, the memories were almost palpable. He could almost feel it as if it were happening all over, the excitement that practically buzzed through him, as he and his mother went to Penn station for the very first time and boarded his very first train. It was so much bigger than the subway cars he and Bucky frequented. He could remember closing his eyes and lifting his nose to the open train window as the air came cleaner the further away from the city they got. The crispness in the air, the fresh smell of the wet leaves and grass, even the way the sun filtering down through the reds, oranges, and yellows in the trees all served to make him feel like he was sixteen again. Sixteen and desperately pretending that the trip upstate that both he and his mom knew they couldn’t afford wasn’t her way of trying to gently tell him goodbye. In his mind’s eye he could still see her sad smile, the thinning hair that he tried so hard to brush softly for her when she was too tired to lift her arms, and the beautiful sky blue dress that she’d filled out in stunning fashion just weeks before their trip hanging off of her frame in what would have been a comical manner if it hadn’t been so very heartbreaking. He’d saved the tiny bits of scrap he could find for months for the money to buy her the fabric to make it. She’d been buried in it just weeks later. Even thinking about it so many years later could still bring tears to his eyes and he felt no shame as he reached up to wipe one away.

Even with the slight sadness in his heart at his memories and the tracks of tears on his cheeks, with every mile he travelled he felt lighter. It was like he hadn’t realized that he’d been having trouble breathing until finally he could again. It was an almost dizzying kind of relief. He’d expected there to be guilt. But, all he could feel was free. When he was younger, fighting in a war that made sense to him, a war that had felt so black and white at the time, good against bad, Hitler and Red Skull against the rest of the world, he’d always been very aware of the all too real possibility that he might give his life in service to his country. It was something he’d accepted the moment he’d first tried to enter the army. It was something he would have gladly done. Of course no one wanted to die, especially when they had so much to live for, but it was something he’d come to terms with. It was price he’d been willing to pay. As much as he hadn’t wanted to die when he forced Schmidt’s aircraft down, he’d been content that he’d led a good life and he’d done all he could to make the world safe and better for all mankind. And as the ice covered him, even as his lungs screamed for air and his body went numb, he hadn’t been afraid. He hadn’t been angry. He’d been ready. 

Waking in a world that no longer appreciated the mind-sets of his time, a world where people called the ideals he once held dear outdated and naïve, a world as foreign to him as Asgard, was as shocking to his system as the ice that had preserved him in the depths of the ocean. He’d tried. He’d tried so hard for three years that felt more like thirty. He’d tried to make the new time he found himself in his own. He’d made his lists and tried to catch up with the modern world. He let Stark inundate him with technology that overwhelmed rather than simplified as it was supposed to. He had forced himself into the city he once loved that was now never quiet. Not that it had been all that quiet in his youth, but now…now there was just so much noise. Even in his apartment in Brooklyn that bordered Prospect Park, there was no place to escape the constant sound of too many people out at all hours. And when it wasn’t people it was cars. Why were there so many of them? He just couldn’t make himself fit in a world that had moved on without him. 

When Bucky had come back to him, ready to heal, ready to be helped, he’d thought that maybe, just maybe, he could be at home in his new time and his new role. That in helping Bucky come back to himself he could bring himself, the best self he’d in the war, back as well. But, as Bucky healed, as the brainwashed soldier became the good man who loved a hearty joke and cared so deeply for people that Steve had once admired so once again, Steve just became more isolated. Bucky became part of their team, in many ways more than Steve himself. He could joke with Stark and Barton, make Bruce and the twins feel at ease, slip into a drinking contest with Thor as easily as he could a tactical discussion, and even found ways to make Natasha and Sam feel comfortable around him. Soon it was very clear to everyone that his best friend, a man who had been tortured, brainwashed, and remade a hundred times over, fit into the time, into the team, better than he ever would. And then it felt like Bucky had left him behind as well.

In all honesty, as he’d laid on the ground after a battle that should have been easy, broken and certain that he was finally going to die, all he’d felt was relief. He’d been a good Catholic boy all his life and had feared Hellfire and damnation as much as the next so suicide had never been an option but sometimes he’d ached so much for release from everything that his life had become that he’d almost dropped his shield and simply given in nearly a dozen times. He didn’t remember what it had been about that day that had made him decide it was time. Of course he’d fought, but he knew he could have fought harder. Did it count as suicide if he hadn’t really allowed himself to be killed, he simply hadn’t prevented it? As Bucky pulled him into his arms, held him and rocked him as he had so many times when they were younger and Steve’s health was failing him, demanding that Steve stay with him, the only thing that Steve could think was that he was finally, finally going to get what he had been promised all of those years ago. He was finally going to get peace. 

And finally, after so many years apart, and so much time trying to forget the one whose loss was like a stabbing pain in his heart every time he remembered, he allowed himself to remember. He remembered deep chocolate brown eyes that had so many years of hurt and knowledge, wisdom and love in them. He remembered a hearty laugh that could lift his spirits no matter what had happened. He remembered a fierce warrior who fought by his side step for step. He remembered a body molding to his own, loving him through nights when he thought that he’d fall apart from grief and bringing him more pleasure than any man had a right to feel when they were alone. He remembered a love so encompassing that it was a wonder he’d lasted as long as he had without the other half of his soul. And he remembered a kiss. That final kiss before they broke into the Hydra compound, the kiss Dugan rolled his eyes for and pulled them apart with a laugh because of. A kiss that made the others avert their eyes, but didn’t make him feel any shame. He remembered a promise to see each other later and a final declaration of love. And finally, he allowed himself to whisper the name once more than he hadn’t even let himself think for so long. And with that whisper he’d allowed his eyes to slip closed and his body to go lax with nothing but a grateful sigh as he let himself go.

And he’d woken again in agony and dark, not bothering to hold back when he realized that they’d dragged him back from death again. He’d raged against them, pulling the tubes out of his arms and his nose, pushing away those much weaker than him that tried to keep him on the hospital bed. As he’d opened his eyes and still couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing, he hadn’t cared how many people his strength was hurting. He saw Bucky and the rest of his team rushing into the room and all he could do was scream at them. Asking why they couldn’t just let him die. Screaming the name of his great love over and over again as Thor and Bucky held him down and Pietro rushed to get breakable doctors out of the way while Bruce put together a concoction of drugs strong enough to keep him under. He hadn’t even felt the prick of the needle, but he’d felt its effects almost immediately as it entered his bloodstream. His body began to relax against his will as Natasha stroked his hair and softly sung a Russian lullaby in his ear while Wanda hummed an eerie counterpoint. The last thing he heard was Tony’s soft “Jesus Christ” before he slipped back into the darkness.

When he awoke again the pain was less and masked under a haze of what he was sure were narcotics. He turned his head and wasn’t surprised to see Bucky asleep in an uncomfortable chair. He tried to work up any energy or happiness at all at Bucky’s loyalty, his friendship, but all he could feel was numb. His sigh hitched into a aborted when his lungs weren’t as healed as he he’d thought. When he turned his head back to Bucky his intense eyes were open and focused like a hawk. They stared at each other for a long time, Bucky simmering anger and concern and Steve resigned and exhausted. It was Bucky who finally worked up the courage to speak.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone, Steve?” His voice was carefully controlled.

“What was I supposed to do, Buck? Stand up in the middle of a meeting and say ‘I want to die, but I’m too much of a coward to do the deed?’”

“Jesus Christ, Steve!” Bucky leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands under his chin as if it was the only thing keeping him from reaching out to take hold of Steve’s shoulders and shake some sense into him, “We’re not in the forties anymore. People talk about things like this now. There’s medication and therapy. There’s…it’s not something that you should be ashamed of.”

Steve sighed and looked down at his hands, clenched so tightly into fists that his knuckles were white. He took a deep breath and made himself relax them, “I’m not ashamed of it, Buck. I just…I’m done. I’m tired. War isn’t supposed to go on forever. The fighting and the killing, the betrayal and everything we never should have seen. Aliens, the world tearing itself apart, Hydra resurfacing more powerful than ever. What did we fight for, Bucky? Why did we fight when it didn’t make a damn bit of difference? Nothing’s changed! What was the point of fighting then? What’s the point of living now? The world doesn’t need me anymore, Buck. The world doesn’t need Captain America. The shield is a meaningless symbol now. And it’s just too heavy for me to hold. I can’t…I don’t have the energy anymore.”

“So put it down, Steve,” Bucky said quietly, reaching out to cover one of Steve’s hands with his own, “Retire Captain America. Leave the fight. Figure out who you are in this new world. Get some therapy. For God’s sake, get some medication. But, don’t make us watch you die. Maybe you’re right and the world doesn’t need Captain America anymore. But, don’t you think for one second that that means we don’t need Steve Rogers. To lose you, Steve, it would kill us all. I…I couldn’t live knowing you’re not alive somewhere.”

Steve’s could feel his breath coming in quick gasps as the tears filled his eyes. He shook his head and tried to speak, but found the words caught in his throat. A couple of tears slipped free and he felt Bucky move from his chair and sit on the bed next to him, wrapping his metal arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“It can’t…It can’t just be that easy.”

“Why not?” Bucky asked, “Steve, you were never made to be a soldier forever. It’s not you. You’re…you’re the best man I’ve ever known. And now it’s time for you to stop fighting and start living.”

Steve allowed himself to sit up and lean on Bucky’s strength. He didn’t know if it was the conversation or the wounds he was still suffering from, but suddenly he was exhausted. He closed his eyes and tucked his head between Bucky’s shoulder and neck. Bucky began to stroke his hair like he had when they were younger and Steve was fighting his way through an asthma attack.

“And what about you, Buck?”

“Steve, that’s always been the difference between us. You fought to live. I live to fight. I belong here.”

Bucky shifted and Steve knew from the tension in his body that he was about to bring up something that Steve wouldn’t like. He was prepared for the stab of pain in his heart when Bucky finally worked up the nerve to ask, “You ever find out what happened to him?”

“No,” he whispered after a time, “After the leviathan went down he just kind of disappears from all records. I asked Dugan before he passed. He said he went feral again, like he was before he joined The Commandos. Then one day he was just gone. There are so many soldiers from that time, Buck, that were never found again. I just…I just don’t know.”

“I’ll help you find him, Steve,” Bucky’s voice was as quiet a whisper as Steve’s, “If we can’t find a grave at least we’ll track down a battle or something. You need the closure, Stevie. You need to mourn him. You searched for me. I’ll help you search for him.”

“Thanks, Buck.”

When he awoke next he instinctively kept his eyes closed and his breath even as he heard two voices talking quietly. He could feel Bucky’s presence at his left, but was surprised to put together that the one on his right, with the hand resting lightly on his wrist, thumb against his pulse point, was Tony Stark.

“So…who’s James? Obviously it wasn’t you he was screaming for. Does Steve even know your name is James?”

A snort of laughter. Bucky had always had an easier relationship with Tony than Steve had, “James Howlett Jr. He was one of The Howling Commandos. Just kind of showed up in the middle of a battle one day. He…we thought maybe Hydra had experimented on him, too. He was always so strong and he walked away from some things he never should have been able to survive. He was rough and had some questionable morals, but underneath it all he was one of the best men I ever knew. Always willing to sacrifice for what was right. Never hurt a child. Fought like the devil to protect his team. And Steve…”

“Steve fell in love with him.” It wasn’t a question.

“They loved each other,” Bucky corrected, “I’ve never seen two people who just…enjoyed each other more. James made Steve more sure of himself and his command. Steve made James a more gentle man, helped to tame some of the wild he had in him. They were completely devoted to each other. You know I wasn’t there when the leviathan went down, but I can only imagine what happened what James heard that Steve wasn’t coming back. I haven’t been able to bring myself to listen to the accounts that the other Commandos recorded as of yet. But, God, it couldn’t have been good. And there’s no record of James dying in the war that Steve’s been able to find, but there’s no record of him past the war, either. The not knowing…it’s tearing Steve apart.”

“I’ll find him, Bucky,” The vehemence in Tony’s voice surprised Steve, but he was glad to hear it. Tony had resources that he and Bucky could only dream of.

“Thanks, Tony.” The gentle tone and the relief in it caused a fresh wave of guilt to rise in Steve’s throat. He covered up clearing it by sighing deeply and shifting his weight. It was an almost entertaining thought that Tony would be shocked if he realized that Steve was purposefully deceiving them. Something about his actions must have struck a chord with Tony, though. His hand tightened slightly on Steve’s wrist and his thumb rubbed comfortingly over the pulse point.

“He’s never going to pick up the shield again, is he?”

“Do we really want him to if he’s going to get himself killed?”

There was no hesitation in Tony’s voice at all as he answered and it made Steve’s breath hitch, “Absolutely not. Having Captain America isn’t worth losing Steve.” 

“Agreed.”

They were quiet after that and Steve wasn’t sure how long it as before he fell asleep again, but the next thing he knew he was blinking awake in soft sunlight and a great deal of the pain was lessened. Bucky and Tony were gone, but Natasha and Bruce were sitting with him, the former looking a little worse for wear and the latter was sleeping heavily, his head back in what would probably end up in a very uncomfortable crick in his neck when he awoke. Steve considered reaching out to wake him, but thought that if he was sleeping that heavily in that position then the sleep was probably what he needed the most. He turned to look at Natasha and she blinked out of the intense study of the book in her lap to give him the half smile that he was pretty sure was reserved only for himself and the other Avengers.

“Can’t decided whether to kill you or kiss you,” She murmured.

“Let me know when you do…”

And it was just that easy with Natasha, Bruce was easy to talk to because he understood exactly where Steve was coming from. He was an outsider as well and he knew what it was like to sink so low that the idea of ending it all was the most comforting option. Thor was surprisingly quiet and supportive in his quiet as he and Steve spoke quietly about Asgard and the New York Steve had been raised in. Clint played the clown and had Steve laughing until the release of emotion brought o a storm of sobbing and shaking so badly Steve thought he would fall apart. Clint simultaneously looked understanding and terrified as he backed out of the room. But, the next thing he knew Pepper was in the room with him, wrapping him in her strong arms and helping him weather the storm. From then on it was either Pepper or Sam who helped him through his emotional times when they came. After a couple of months of healing physically and emotionally, allowing himself to accept his new life in a new time, and talking to a doctor who helped him find medications and techniques that made him feel more even and less hopeless, he decided it was time.  


He walked into Nick Fury’s office confident and sturdy. Phil Coulson had returned with avengence and Steve almost felt guilty at destroying his image of his childhood hero as he gave Fury his verbal resignation of his position both in S.H.E.I.L.D and as Captain America. But, he saw only understanding in Phil’s eyes and he knew that Phil was perhaps one of the few men in the world who fully understood what it was like to give up a life for an ideal and then be told it wasn’t good enough and more was needed. Phil has made a different choice that Steve was making. He wasn’t as selfish as Steve, but Steve was learning to be okay with a little bit of selfishness. He was beginning to see that he deserved to be happy.

“Hang onto this for me?” He asked quietly as he handed Phil his shield, “I may need it again someday.”

“I’ll keep it polished,” Phil agreed with a small nod.

And now here he was, travelling in upstate New York on his bike, admiring the autumn all around him and feeling lighter than he had in a long, long time. For the first time since Erskine approached him he had no plan, no goal. He only had a Stark Blackcard he wasn’t going to allow himself to be ashamed of using, the clothes and toiletries in his saddlebags, his bike, and a vague idea of where he was going.

“There’s a school upstate. Westchester. Something there I think you might be interested in.” Tony had said it with such casual conviction that Steve knew he would have to check it out. But, whether or not he actually found anything at this…Xavier School one thing was certain. This was one hell of a beautiful ride.

The gate was closed when he approached it and it took him a couple of embarrassing minutes before he realized what the little box with the television and the button was for.

“Hello?” A pleasant looking teenager with a sweet, round face smiled at him on the screen.

“Hi,” he smiled back uncomfortably, “Um…I’m Steve Rogers. A friend gave me this address. Told me to ask for Logan.”

“Logan? Sure. Come on up.”

As he rode up the long drive Steve wondered if maybe he had been a soldier for too long because the most prevalent thought in his mind was that security could be tighter. The sweet girl in control of the gate didn’t know him from Adam but she let him in as soon as he dropped a single name. the last thing he wanted was a school to have a security breach because the young students were too trusting.  


He rode slowly and spotted a young man standing on the lawn, looking up to the sky, and blinked hard when a large pair of beautiful, feathered white wings stretched out behind him and lifted him into the air. In the next moment a young woman with a white streak in her hair flew out of nowhere and made a grab for a strip of fabric tucked into the back pocket of the young man’s jeans. He laughed and turned like a bullet before taking off across the grounds. Steve could feel the smile stretch across his face. It was a school for young mutants. No wonder Tony wanted him to stop here. He’d been interested in what he could do to help mutant rights since he woke up and mutants had come to the forefront of the world’s thoughts. He was disillusioned with his government and his nation but the rights of people who just wanted to be free to live normal lives…that was something he could get behind one hundred percent. He was still smiling when he pulled up in front of the mansion and threw his leg over his bike. He stood, reaching his hands above his head to stretch and looked out at the grounds. They were beautifully attended. Off in the distance he could see the game of tag continued. A small child, black and red like molten lava, had joined in. He chuckled softly when he heard the indignant, “Hey!” as the angel-winged young managed to take the child’s ribbon.

“Can I help you?” The voice, already on the defensive (Almost constantly on the defensive, Steve knew.) knocked the breath right out of him. His knees went weak and he had to put his hands on them to keep himself upright. It only barely worked and he knew that he could lose it any moment. He felt like he was drawing in his breath through a straw and finally managed to pull in a gasping breath when the little black spots began to dance around his vision.

“Something wrong, Bub?”

Steve let out a sound he never knew he was capable of making, half barking laugh, half sob, and finally turned around to look up into the eyes that he’d been dreaming of for seventy years.

“I never…” He swallowed hard around the emotion in his throat, “I never thought I would be so happy to hear you call me that again.” He could see the confusion in the man before him. Confusion and no recognition and felt his heart stutter. He couldn’t be alive and looking as beautiful as he had the last time Steve saw him so many years ago and not recognize him. It was too cruel. Steve knew he wouldn’t survive it if he didn’t remember.

“James…” he choked out desperately, reaching out a hand to the man in front of him.

Then the most beautiful thing Steve had seen in his life. Recognition dawned in the eyes he loved and his wild man took a step back in shock.

“Steve?”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All previous disclaimers apply.
> 
>  
> 
> There was a good deal of response to this and I like the premise enough to continue. I'm not too certain about this chapter, so any constructive criticism would be much appreciated. Also any ideas of where to take it. I have some pretty certain scenes in mind, but so far, no real story line. I hope you enjoy.

The moment Logan's mind released the stranglehold that it had been keeping on his memories as a physical manifestation of self-preservation Charles felt it like a powerful psychic attack on his mind. It was such a vast, potent release that he felt it almost as if it were a physical attack. The brilliant flash of white light made him seize back in his chair, and momentarily blinded him. He could feel the tension in his body, the tremors that ran through it as he fought to keep himself if control of his own powers under the physic onslaught of a mind much older and much more experienced than he could have ever comprehended. Before the light had fully dissipated, giving him back his vision, the tidal wave of memories hit his mind full force, flooding it and making him cry out in pain at the sheer overwhelming force of it all. He closed his eyes tightly, pressing the heels of his hands to them harshly and breathing shallowly though his nose, attempting deeper breaths to help oxygenate his brain and give him a chance to catch up and make sense of what he was receiving and seeing in his mind's eye.

He felt the tears come into his closed eyes unbidden and began rubbing his temples, forcing down the sob that tried to build in his throat as his breath hitched in his chest. Such a long life his Wolverine had had, full of so much pain, so much war and violence. He could see it all like watching a film, losing so many people who were important to him. Mother, the man he thought of and loved as a father. His first kill, accidental…the man who mostly likely was his actual father. Being raised by a man who was most likely his brother, but who never had his compassion, his sanity even. Lovers lost along the way, more than any man should have to lose. A wife, but only the one, lost with his only child in an influenza outbreak that he couldn't die from no matter how much he wanted to. War after war, battle after battle, allowing himself to become something less than human just to feel something. Even a berserker rage was better than feeling nothing when confronted with the worst the humanity had to offer over and over again.

And then in the midst of so very many long years, a brief, shining moment of peace, love, and the joy of complete acceptance and companionship. Also, right in the middle of a war, and yet…And yet through the lens of Logan's memories most of his participation in World War II was bathed in a golden light. And nothing, no one, shone more brightly than Steven Rogers, Captain America himself. It was these memories of Steven Rogers that Charles could almost feel, they were so strong. The simple, sweet contentment that Logan had found in the middle of some of the worst atrocities that man had ever committed against man. In some ways, knowing what he did about the time, knowing what he did about the way the Jewish people, Erik, had been treated, murdered by the millions, he wanted to resent Logan. Why should he have had so much in the middle of such brutality?

But, he could not. How could he feel resentment when such peace, in a lifetime of war, had been one of his children's? A peace that he'd never felt in Logan, in his time with him or in any of the memories they had been able to uncover. And the strongest memory…Charles felt a swell of bittersweet happiness for his Wolverine when it was so simple a thing. A leave in the French countryside. A farmhouse that had long been abandoned but was perfect for The Howling Commandos. So many empty rooms. Fireplaces that they could chop wood for to keep warm and a well that they could draw water from to wash their uniforms and have a real bath for the first time in weeks. Logan hadn't been with them long. He and Victor had been separated by orders for a couple of weeks and he had stumbled into saving the good Captain's life. He'd been drawn to Steve's goodness, his light. Steve had offered him a place with The Commandoes and he'd taken it, wanting to see how other teams operated, desperate for something that was different than what he'd always experienced with Victor. He didn't recognize it until years later, but he'd been looking for a cause, needing to know there was more to war, more meaning, than simple and utter violence. He was no stranger to sex with both genders, but falling into bed with Steven a week after he'd joined the team, both of them needing release after the successful mission they'd run, had been a revelation. A simple man, a young man, an extraordinary man. Steve had changed everything that night. And in the few weeks between that first time and their leave passion had turned to respect, had turned to devotion, had turned to love. A love he'd never known before Captain America.

And that morning in the farmhouse…Captain America had been stripped bare, in more ways that one, until he was simply Steve. Neither if them had ever had any problems with modesty. At least not with each other. After making love Steve had fallen asleep nude and as the sun rose he was still so, on his stomach on the bed with its elaborate wire frame. He always took too much of the bed and he was in the exact center, a pillow clutched to in his arms, his tanned skin a stark contrast against the light blue sheets, especially when the sun slanted just so over him. He'd looked like a Greek Adonis. There'd been a small smile on his face until he'd opened sleepy blue eyes and spotted Logan. Then the smile had bloomed into something brilliant and Logan's knees had gone weak with the knowledge that this beautiful, absolutely good, impossibly young man seemed to love him just as much as he loved Steve. His disbelief and wonderment forced the sob Charles had been holding in out of his throat.

Another escaped when the next memory to slam into Charles' mind was the absolute and utter devastation of losing Steve to the ice. Not making it onto the plane with Steve. Saying goodbye to the man he loved over a radio, pretending that they would meet in the pub, trying to make it okay for the young man who was trying his hardest to be brave. The bravest man Logan had ever met. The physical pain that crushed Logan's heart when Steve said his goodbyes.

"James…There…I…"

"Don't even think about it, Steve. We'll figure something out."

"There's nothing to figure out, James. The fight…it destroyed the landing gear. If this thing goes down anywhere around a city a lot of people are going to die. There's too much fire power. Even if I managed to get it past the New York...I just…I can't take that chance. There's no one out here and maybe the water…Maybe the bombs won't…"

"Of course they won't, Steve. And you'll come have a victory drink with us at the pub. Hell, I'll even give you three days to get there."

"Good. I'll need it to trek through the snow. James?"

"Yeah, Steve?"

"I love you. You know that, right?"

"I know. I…I love you, too, bub."

"Don't call me b…"

Charles moaned and lowered his elbows to his knees to support his head. No wonder the man had gone feral and his mind closed off all of the memories. To know such peace and love after a lifetime of war only to have it taken away so suddenly, and without warning…it was enough to drive any person mad. There were more memories of course, but they seemed pale and dull in comparison.

"Professor…" Bobby's voice pulled him out of the loop Logan's memories had put him into, but the young man knew better than to touch him when he was so raw and he'd never been more grateful to the young man than when he handed him a glass of water and a damp cloth to wipe away tears and cool himself.

"Thank you, Bobby," he said after a moment, "Please, could both yourself and Kitty find all of the children with telepathic ability? Take them to Jean and Kurt in the Danger Room. We are going to treat this as a psychic attack and follow protocol. The children will be overwhelmed and scared. Some may have even collapsed in an effort to give their minds the time to process the information they were just given. Try not to touch them at all if you can help it. If it is unavoidable do not touch skin directly. Their shields will be down. Have Rogue help you."

"Of course, Professor," Kitty nodded and Charles could see her struggle not to reach out and touch him. The low level empathy she wasn't even aware of made her extremely tactile when those around her were in distress and it was difficult for her not to reach out for him. It was never something that he's thought they'd have to train up in her, but when she touched him at his encouraging nod and some of the pain automatically eased in his head, he realized that it was more than just a secondary mutation that didn't need training. They would have to address the talents as soon as possible. But, it was not something he wanted her actively attempting to use until it has been trained up a bit, so he patted and kissed the hand that had been set on his shoulder and sent his children on their way.

He took a moment to revel in the fact that they were growing so quickly and so very well, and then took a deep breath before following Logan's unique mental signature through the house. Maria, one of his youngest telepaths practically jumped into his lap, sobbing. He mentally called for Kurt and handed the little girl over as soon as his Nightcrawler appeared at his elbow.

"Oh, mein leibchen." Kurt murmured, letting the little one wrap her arms around his neck. Charles smiled at the man, so certain that he had no purpose just a year ago. He had found his place at the school, as guide, friend, and surrogate parent for the young ones. Charles was grateful to him. He gave Charles a gentle demon smile and was gone, taking Maria o the danger room where Jean would be waiting to help the children rebuild their shields. He would join them shortly, but first he had to find his Wolverine. He needed to make certain that what caused Logan's mind to release his memories was not going to be a danger to Logan or any of the others who lived in the mansion. It would not be unheard of for one of their enemies to use something one of them wanted against them. It had happened before.

But the joy he felt coming from Logan…It wasn't something that he thought could be fabricated. And the memories were real. He tried not to be a vain man, but he did know that he was the most powerful telepath on the planet. If he couldn't get the memories back for Logan than no one would have been able to do it. Logan would have to do it by himself. So, what could have possibly triggered it? It only took a moment more for Charles to locate Logan, out in front of the house. What he saw when he went through the open door made tears come anew into his eyes.

Logan knelt in the gravel, another man, a young man, knelt in front of him. They were running their fingertips gently over each other's faces as if they couldn't believe the other man was real. It only took a moment for Charles to realize who the young man in front of him was. This was Steven Rogers, Captain America himself, and the great love of Logan's life. Had he but known…had he but seen some little glimpse in Logan's memory of the man. Captain Rogers had been awake for three years. Judging from the thoughts coming off of him, he was just as in love with Logan as Logan was with him. They'd lost each other that day and they could have been together since the good Captain's awakening. Three years that Steven had suffered. He wasn't shielding himself at all and Charles could see the pain of not knowing where his…his James had died and been buried. How could he have known that his love had survived? But, so much for regrets. They were together now.

"James…James…" Steven was whispering over and over. Charles knew that he would be the only one to ever call Logan by that name.

"Steve…" Logan murmured, "God, I said goodbye to you. I said goodbye to you and it killed everything good in me for years. I forgot you, Steve. I forgot everything that made me a good man for so long. So long. Oh god, if I'd known…Steve, I would have come for you. Please believe me. I wouldn't have stopped. I would have found you." Logan ended on a sob, a sound that Charles had never thought to hear him make.

Steven shushed him gently, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, "I woke up and everything was different, everything had changed. I thought everyone was gone, or near it. Without you…I wanted to die if I couldn't be with you. I almost let myself be killed. And you were here all along. I would have come to you, James. You know it. I would have…"

"I love you, Steve."

"Oh, god," Steven wrapped his arms around Logan's strong body, "I love you, James. I dreamt about this moment for seventy years."

"No more dreaming," Logan wrapped his arms around Steven's back and cupped the back of his head in one of his large hands, "No more dreaming, sweetheart."

Charles knew the moment Steven and Logan's lips met would be one of his cherished memories. Something that he could take out and look at when times were hard. It calmed and settled both men until they were awash in a golden glow, much like Logan's memories of the war. Just their happiness was like a balm against his wounded mind and he opened it to the other telepaths on the grounds, hoping to soothe some of the unintentional hurts. Then, he turned to give the men their privacy. The happiness didn't fade and it took some time before he could sense that the men were ready to speak to him. When he turned around they were standing and Charles smiled at the picture they made.

Steven, golden and smooth as a Greek statue. Logan, rough and dark like a painting of a Wildman. Steven was like a man out of time. Crisp khakis and a plaid shirt with an old fashion leather bomber jacket over it. Logan in his customary white tank top and jeans, scuffed boots and a cigar loose in his free hand. The other was tightly grasping one of Steve's, their fingers entwined. They could not have been more different or more perfectly matched. Charles could feel the peace in them both.

"Chuck…" Logan sounded almost sheepish. Charles smiled. How many new emotions, new actions, would they see from their Wolverine now that he had the other half of his heart back? "This is Steve Rogers. He…"

Charles held up his hand to stop the mumbled words, "Captain Rogers will always be welcomed here, Logan. On his own merits."

"Really it's just Steve, sir…" Steven tried to interject. Charles lifted his hand again.

"It is your regard and affection for each other that will have him treated as family. Welcome to The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Steven. Welcome home."


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Steve reconnect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All previous disclaimers apply. 
> 
> I'd appreciate any feedback. I think I know where this is going now and I'm pretty happy with it, but as this is only the second story I've done any work on in a long time I would really appreciate any thoughts, encouragements, or constructive criticisms. Thanks so much!

All previous disclaimers apply.

Author's Note: I'd appreciate any feedback. I think I know where this is going now and I'm pretty happy with it, but as this is only the second story I've done any work on in a long time I would really appreciate any thoughts, encouragements, or constructive criticisms. Thanks so much!

Logan couldn't take his eyes off of Steve as they sat at the dinner table that evening. When he'd first agreed to join the staff at Xavier's, teaching the children as well as being a part of the fighting force that had come to be affectionately known as the X-Men over the years, the communal meals were one of the things that made him most uncomfortable. Not that he'd excelled at social situations in any setting previous, but just the idea of sitting down to eat with so many disparate personalities just on the team added to more than two dozen children still combatting their fears of the world, themselves and being apart from their families, the their families were even supportive, for the first time was his idea of something very nearly his worst nightmare. He hadn't been one of Xavier's since his teenage years like so many of the others, was in fact older than Xavier. It was hard to reconcile what he had been in the past, those he'd killed, the wars he'd fought in, with the teacher he was now supposed to be. It was the lack of Steve in his life, he finally realized as he gazed at the man he'd loved so fiercely his mind had blocked the memories of him when he'd been lost just to keep him sane.

Logan could remember now. After Steve went down, their team, who had known how much they cared for each other almost before they did, and hadn't cared, had tried to keep him sane, to give him comfort, but it hadn't been enough. He'd been alternately wild and catatonic as he tried to process Steve's death. At one moment killing without mercy, the next sitting, staring directly in front of him. The commandos had been great friends to him in that time. Tried to keep him from killing someone he'd regret, cleaning him up when he was in one of his catatonic states. He couldn't handle their kindness and care anymore than he could handle Steve's loss. One day while they were all still sleeping, surrounding him to prevent exactly what he did, he'd snuck out and disappeared. Over the course of the next few months, lost in the woods somewhere in Europe, his mind had tried to protect him by making him forget everything about Steve. He forgot almost everything about the war on the whole, except the fact that he fought in it. He would have to ask if any of the commandos were even still alive. It was devastating to think that the men who'd been the best friends he'd ever had were probably all gone and that they'd never known what became of him. And that they'd never know how much he appreciated it and them.

It was a little discomforting to think that now the telepaths of the mansion knew exactly how he'd felt and exactly what his mind had done to keep him sane so long ago. His whole life laid out for them. The adults had been kind about it, though some of the younger ones couldn't yet look at him or Steve without blushing. He figured it would take them some time. They were as uncomfortable knowing his sex life and history as he was with them knowing it. Jean and the professor had gone into the youngest ones heads when they were helping them to rebuild their shields that afternoon and placed blocks on memories they shouldn't have to see and deal with yet. The blocks would naturally fade as they got older and their powers strengthened. When they were mature enough to see the things in Logan's long life that would give them nightmares now they would be able to remember and process them. It was hard to think that they'd all seen so much because he'd been so intensely private for so long, but in a way it was a relief. They'd seen it all and they still loved him. They were still his family.

"Hey," Steve pulled Logan out of his thoughts with a gentle hand set to his cheek, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Logan smiled at Steve softly, cupping the hand on his face in one of his own and turning a hand to press a gentle kiss to it, "Yeah, I am, sweetheart."

"Oh my god," Jubilee squealed softly from where she was sitting across from them at the large table, "You two are just too cute."

Steve blushed and ducked his head though Logan could see the small smile on his face and Logan rolled his eyes at the teenager he'd taken under his wing. She just winked and turned to Jean-Paul next to her to carry on their conversation. Logan chuckled a little and looked down the table at his family. For the most part they'd accepted Steve without a word when he'd introduced him. Most of them simply shook his hand, and after being told who he was, welcomed him with open arms. Ororo especially seemed to take to his quiet strength and they'd already started the beginning of a friendship, Logan could tell, bonding over Storm's gardens and Steve's love of green space. The same had happened with Kurt and Steve. The younger man and Steve had spoken German together for a little while, speaking of cities that they both loved and architecture that was still standing from the time Steve had been there to when Kurt was raised. In truth, Steve seemed easier with the young man, barely out of his teens, than almost anyone else at the mansion aside from the children and that had put Kurt right at his ease as well. Hank reminded Logan a lot of Falsworth now that he remembered him and he could tell the same was true for Steve. It put a little sad smile on his face, but it seemed like Steve would probably have good long conversations with him of the same kind that he'd had with the Brit they'd known and cared about. Remy had been shifty as he always was with new people. He'd warm up. Rogue was the same. Scott had been his normal, reserved self until he'd found out that Steve was Logan's long lost lover, then he'd seemed to relax.

The only notable exception was Jean. She'd been pretty noticeably cool to Steve when they were introduced and when he looked at her as he was sweeping the table he could see the frown on her face directed at them. He would have to figure out what her problem was sooner or later. As he watched her he wondered how he could have thought that he loved her. Sure, what he'd felt for her was strong, but it was nothing compared to what he felt for Steve. How he could have mistaken lust, intrigue, and challenge for anything like the feelings he held for the man sitting next to him he had no idea, but he wasn't going to dwell on it. The past was the past and through anything that happened now Steve would be by his side. And that was all he'd ever wanted or needed.

He reached over to lay his hand on the back of Steve's neck and rubbed gently, teasing the hair at Steve's nape with just the tips of his fingers. Steve's intake of breath was only loud enough for Logan to hear and Logan could practically feel him vibrating under his hand.

"Sweetheart?" He asked quietly and Steve shook his head.

"I'm fine, James…I…" He blushed and looked down. Logan followed his gaze and blinked hard when he noticed the telltale bulge beginning in Steve's khakis. He felt a sly smile spread across his face. Of course, their sexual compatibility had ben top notch when they were fighting together in the second world war. Their team had often teased them about it, covered for them more than once with the brass, protected them from being caught. More than once they'd come out of their room to their teammates groans and wolf whistles after a night of passion. Logan was looking forward to those days again, looking forward to being inside Steve again. He had to hold back a moan as his own erection began to inflate in his pants and was grateful for the strong jean fabric that would keep it from being noticeable.

~Logan?~ Logan's head jerked up at the professor's voice in his head. He looked down the table to where the old man who had become such a great friend to him over so many years was looking at him with a slight smile on his face.

~What's up, Chuck?~

~You're broadcasting, Logan. I have been able to place blocks so that no one else can hear. Your mind is much stronger with all of your memories fully intact. We will have to work on your own shields, if only to protect the other telepaths not yet strong enough to block you. But, that is a task for tomorrow. For now, you may want to take Steven to bed.~

~Chuck!~ Logan flashed a toothy grin at him. ~Didn't know you had it in you.~

~Well, I'm old, Logan. I'm not dead.~

Logan nodded slightly and removed his hand from Steve's neck to link their fingers. He pressed a kiss to the back of their joined hands as he stood, pulling Steve up with him and careful to step and push Steve in such a way that the evidence of his arousal that would have embarrassed him had the others seen it was hidden from view.

"Goodnight, all." He called.

The various echoes of goodnights and welcomes made a blush crawl up Steve's neck to his ears fetchingly and he waved to all of them in his "Aw, shucks," endearing kind of fashion. The same way he'd told Logan he was attracted to him. The same way he told him that he loved him. Logan's heart filled with love and he couldn't help but lean into Steve, cupping his chiseled jaw in his hand and pressing a sweet kiss to his mouth. It was nothing that they hadn't seen Jean and Scott or Remy and Ororo do dozens of times but the students seemed to find it amusing if their catcalls and hoots of joy were anything to go by. Steve ducked his head adorably as Logan grinned back at his family, smiling at him. All except for Jean. Logan chose to ignore her. He was about to take the man he'd loved with a fierceness and purity he'd never known before or since to bed for the first time in decades. There was nothing that was going to make him second guess himself or stumble now. He pulled Steve out of the dining room and allowed the door to shut behind them. For a moment they simply looked at each other, then they burst out laughing, a pure and happy sound. Logan pulled Steve to him hard and their next kiss was much less chaste than the one that came before it. Their tongues melded and battled, as if there was a prize for the best combatant. Logan moaned when he felt Steve's hands in his hair, pulling just the way he liked as Logan wrapped his arms around Steve and cupped his ass in one big palm, pulling their pelvises closer together so that their erections would meet through the fabric of their pants. Steve's moan into his mouth was enough to make his knees weak and he broke the kiss.

They were like children, laughing happily as they ran up the stairs toward Logan's room. They stopped in the hall to make out like teenagers, rubbing against each other and pushing each other into walls. Steve giggled and whispered an "Oops," when his elbow went into the drywall.

"This is a school for mutants," Logan laughed, "It happens. We'll fix it tomorrow."

Steve nodded and they ran the rest of the way to Logan's room as if they were in a race. Steve beat Logan by only a moment and slipped into the room like a shadow just before Logan slipped in and slammed the door behind him. They both stood in the early evening light, staring at each other from across the room, chests heaving with more arousal than exertion. For a moment they were frozen, then as if lighting struck they were in each other's arms, tearing shirts from each other's bodies, laughing as they pulled off their pants and undergarments. By the time they couldn't resist each other anymore Steve still had on one sock and Logan's hair looked even more devilish. Steve grinned before moving in. He'd always appreciated the couple of inches that Logan had on him and he used it to his full advantage as he put a hand to Logan's chest, unable to resist running his hand through the hair he found there, slotted one of his legs in between both of Logan's so that their erections lined up, and began to kiss and nibble at his neck, just where he remembered made his lover fall apart. Logan moaned and wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders.

"I can't believe I forgot how gorgeous you are," He moaned as Steve bit harshly on the juncture between his shoulder and neck, "How well you know me."

"Sometimes I would wake up from dreams," Steve murmured, "Sometimes they'd make me cry because all I wanted was for you to be with me, to hold me. Sometimes they would make me ache, missing this. It was never the only thing, but it was something…"

"Sweetheart," Logan lifted Steve's chin so that their eyes could meet, "There's no need to be ashamed. No need to be embarrassed. I would have missed this, too."

"It's been so long, James," Steve said quietly, "So long. Please, I need you inside me. I need you to prove to me that this is all real. That you're real. That we're together again. Please."

"Hey, now." Logan cupped Steve's face in both of his hands, "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

Steve breathed out on a sigh of relief as Logan kissed him gently, then swooped him up in his arms bridal style. It had been so long since anyone was able to make him feel small and taken care of, so long since he had wanted anyone to make him feel that way, that he melted in Logan's arms and kissed him again. He could feel Logan smiling against his lips and laughed softly when Logan lowered him to the bed, then slid onto it himself and on top of Steve. Steve opened his legs to take Logan between them and drew in his breath at the feel of his lover's body weight on top of him, their erections pressed against each other. He took a deep, shuddering breath at the sensation and smiled up at the man above him.

"I love you, James," he murmured.

"And I love you," Logan returned.

For a long time they simply laid together, their hips moving lazily as they explored each other with hands and mouths, relearning everything that they'd once known about each other. When Logan ran his fingers over Steve's nipples Steve fought hard to keep his moan in, but couldn't manage it. He skimmed his fingertips just over Logan's ribs in retaliation just the way he remembered driving Logan to distraction and Logan groaned from deep in his throat, his erection twitching against Steve's belly. Steve smiled up at him as he took a bottle of lotion out of his bedside table. It had been a long time, but the preparation didn't feel strange. It felt as if his body had only been waiting for Logan to return. Logan's fingers were not unknown to him and he threw his head back on a moan of pleasure when two of them brushed his prostate.

"I'm ready, James, please," he whispered after a time.

When Logan finally slid inside of him it was like coming home. They moved together in the dying light of the sunset as they once had. Logan's arms on either side of Steve's head, Steve's legs wrapped around his waist and one arm around his back, the other hand cupping Logan's backside to encourage him in his thrusting into Steve's body. Logan pushed Steve's hair out of his eyes with one hand and reached between their bodies for his erection with the other, his grunts of pleasure becoming more pronounced as his thrusts became rough and uneven. The cried their mutual pleasure into each other's mouths as they fell over the edge of pleasure together.

Later, after they'd cleaned themselves and were lying in Logan's bed, their legs entwined and barely and inch of space between their bare bodies they spoke for hours, all of the things they'd seen, all of the things they'd missed, relearning each other's minds as surely as they were relearning each other's bodies.

"You still dress like you're in the forties," Logan observed after a time.

"For a long time I was," Steve agreed, "I mean, my body was here, my mind…some of the time. But my heart was back in Europe at the end of the war. It felt like if I gave up everything I'd known from the era that I was giving up too much of myself. And I couldn't…I just…I'm on medication now," he admitted quietly, not looking up at Logan, "For depression. Looking back on everything it's something I probably would have been on in the forties if they'd known what people know now. At a much lower dose, of course, but my dark times were always so dark and I could never really see an end to them and…"

"Steve," Logan kissed him gently to quiet him, "Do you think it changes how I feel about you? I was there, remember? I saw the black moods that took over you for weeks at a time. I was the one coaxing you to eat. I get it. The medication means nothing if it helps you feel more like yourself. I just want you happy, sweetheart."

"It's getting better," Steve said, "Not so many black days. And now with you…I know I can't depend on you to be my happiness, James, but I just feel like it's going to be so much better now."

"You're my happiness, too, Steve," Logan assured him, "It's not going to be easy. There's so much that's different for both of us, but I'm willing to work for it, to fight for it, if you are."

Steve took Logan's hand in his and kissed his fingertips gently, "There's nothing I want more."


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply
> 
> Came back to re-write part of this. I didn't like how it ended. There's nothing hugely majorly different about it. Logan is OOC, Steve is OOC, but that's kind of been the case through-out this story. It's mostly exposition right now. Action to come. This feels more in tune with the tone already established by previous chapters. No funky POV change at the end. My Charles Xavier is based mostly on the sassy McAvoy version. Just older. I hope this is a little bit better.

When Logan woke he was alone in the bed and for one almost endless moment as he reached out for a body that was no longer sharing the space with him he felt a terrible black depression roll over him, certain that the day before had been a dream. He'd had dreams before that had felt so real he wasn't certain upon waking which had been the dream and which had been reality, but they'd never broken his heart the way this one was certain to. He could still feel all of the memories, still knew what Steve meant to him, how he felt about him, but if Steve wasn't actually with him…Those few seconds were the longest and blackest of his whole long life, then his nose caught up with his mind and gave him a wealth of information and relief when he caught Steve's scent surrounding him, on the sheets, the pillows, even on his own skin. He let the relief wash over him for a moment before he took a deeper breath and his senses told him his lover was on the small balcony off of his room. A smile spread across his face unbidden and he rolled over onto his side, propping up his head on his hand, elbow on a pillow, before he opened his eyes to the slightly overcast day and the vision that was Steve Rogers meditating in his boxer-briefs in the weak morning light. His eyes were closed though Logan knew that his senses were almost as refined as his own and if he was still hyperaware like he was during the war he already knew that Logan was awake. He continued his meditation as Logan got up, stretched, feeling pleasantly used as he hadn't for years, even if he knew it was just in his mind. His healing factor took away all physical reminders of a pleasant night of passion, but it couldn't take away the contented, at peace feeling that spread from his mind that helped him feel loose and relaxed. He pulled on a pair of boxers and made his way across the room.

Logan smiled at just how correct he was about Steve's senses when Steve didn't even flinch as he sat behind him, spread his legs on either side of his body so that he could rest his chest against Steve's back and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his neck. Steve moaned and let himself be pulled more fully into Logan's embrace, lifting his hands to hold onto one of the arms wrapped around him. For a few long minutes they enjoyed the silence and the simple sensation of being together. Logan breathed Steve in and with every breath he felt himself calm and center in a way he hadn't been able to do for years. He could tell that Steve felt the same from feeling his pulse spike for a moment, then settle and nearly match Logan's own as their breathing synchronized. Logan pressed another kiss to Steve's skin and smiled against it when he moaned from the back of his throat.

"Could get used to waking up to this." Logan whispered against his neck.

"You'd better," Steve whispered in return, "I intend for it to be this way for a good, long while."

"No arguments here, bub," Logan assured him, then pulled back and allowed Steve to lean back and slip out of his straight-backed meditation pose completely. Steve sighed heavily, contentedly, and lifted one of his hands from where it was gripping Logan's arm around his chest to reach back to thread his fingers through Logan's thick hair. Logan moaned as Steve's fingers massaged lightly before gripping the short hairs at the nape of his neck and forcing his head down to press their lips together in an intimate, deep kiss like the ones they used to share after battles when they were affirming that they were alive, whole and together.

"When did you get so pushy?" Logan grinned down at Steve when they broke the kiss.

"Missed you too much not to be," Steve grinned back, "Want to kiss you all the time. Want your hands on me. Just want you."

Logan moaned and kissed Steve again as his lover moved his hand to interlace their fingers and direct them down his chest, across his stomach and then lower. Just before their hands reached the destination they were both eager for Steve's stomach let out a loud growl of hunger that had them both laughing until they cried.

"Didn't eat much last night," Steve admitted, "Was too excited to be with you again."

"You need about three times the amount of calories of anyone else I know, you know that?" Logan got to his feet and held out a hand to Steve, "Come on. Better get going if you actually want to get some food around here. Some of the teenagers eat almost as much as you."

"We could make breakfast," Steve suggested, almost shy, as he ran a hand through his hair, too short anymore to really be mussed by a night of sleep, "Like we used to for The Commandos."

"What? And make 'em think we'll do it every day?" Logan raised an eyebrow as he reached for a cigar and lit it. Steve wrinkled his nose and it came back to Logan how much the smoke bothered him, a reminder of the days when the slightest wisp of smoke could lead to an asthma attack so severe that he'd be blue-lipped and gasping in minutes. He put it out in the ashtray and turned to his dresser to pull out some clothes.

"We could do it every day." Steve said, his tone letting Logan know it was only half joking.

"Boyscout," Logan growled as he threw a t-shirt at Steve's face.

Steve stuck out his tongue before he pulled the shirt over his head and reached into his saddlebag for a pair of khakis. When he pulled them out to find that they were ridiculously wrinkled he had to take a breath. He'd been hard pressed to find slacks that had the kind of darted pleats he'd been used to before the ice. Now they just seemed out of date. He turned to Logan, confusion in his eyes, and couldn't help the quirk that pulled up the corner of his lips into a reluctant smile to see Logan holding out a pair of well-worn jeans. He took them and made a show of unfolding them, working up his nerve to actually put them on. He wanted to move on. He no longer wanted to exist only in the past. James was here in the present, but it was hard to think of how much he had to let go of to allow himself to move on. In many ways letting go of his clothing was like leaving behind everything that he'd struggled to keep intact for so long.

"Take your time, sweetheart." Suddenly James was beside him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and setting the other hand to his belly, "Breathe from here, yeah? Try to slow it down a little."

It took Steve a moment to realize that he'd been on the verge of hyperventilating. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take a breath low enough that he felt it make Logan's hand rise on his stomach. He did it again and again until the panic subsided and he was matching Logan breath for breath.

"S'kind of ridiculous to get so worked up over pants," He murmured after a time.

"Hey," Logan moved so that he was standing in front of Steve and cupped his face in his hands, "Give yourself a break, huh? Jesus Christ, Steve, I've never seen anyone as in control all the time as you are, except for maybe 'Roro. You need to know it's okay to express whatever you're feeling. I ain't never going to judge you for that."

"I love you, James." Steve sighed, closing his eyes as Logan pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"I love you, too, Steve. Now let's get you some food before you fall over."

"Sounds good."

Logan couldn't help how often he got distracted as they cooked breakfast side by side. It was like they'd never been apart. They moved around each other as if they sensed each other. It's wasn't like he was so on edge that he was constantly aware of where Steve was, but he didn't have to ask to know where he'd be next or what he needed from one moment to the next as he took over what needed actual cooking on the stove and left things like toast to Logan. It's what'd been missing, Logan realized, through all the years and all of the relationships that never felt quite right. The easy camaraderie, the knowing another soul as well as you knew your own. Maybe, even when his mind couldn't remember his great love…his heart maybe…remembered Steve and helped him in his seemingly never ending quest to self-destruct every relationship before it began. Something in him knew it was Steve and only Steve. So he let himself feel it all as he hadn't for years, the wonder, the ease and the love as they cooked and Steve didn't seem to mind the frequent interruptions for kisses any. And before Logan knew it a meal for fifty was prepared and in warming dishes and Steve was pouring himself another cup of coffee and leaning against the counter with a satisfied sigh as he surveyed all they'd done.

"When the hell'd you learn to cook for so many?" Logan asked, baffled, "And how the hell'd you do it so fast?"

"Ever cooked for an Asgardian after a battle?" Steve grinned. Logan growled at the grin and pulled Steve to him to kiss him again, "It feels good," he admitted after a moment, "To just cook. It's something I know is going to be of use to everyone. Make them strong and ready for the day. I haven't done much of it since I woke up. Always too much to do, but…I think I like cooking."

"I think I like that you're going to be able to find things you like to do just because you like to do them. Have you ever just taken the time to be Steve? I mean, since the war?"

"Even before the war there was my health and then the depression and…there was never enough time. I like art and I got away with it because I could draw little pictures for the papers and such, but I…For the first time I think I'm feeling…grateful that I didn't wake up till now. Now time and circumstance…maybe I can finally just be me."

Logan chuckled and set his forehead to Steve's before placing a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.

"Still cute, but too early," Jubilee murmured as she pushed open the swinging door and made a beeline for the coffee, "Can't process it right now. Give me an hour. I'll squee later."

Steve laughed and turned out of Logan's arms to reach into the cabinet behind him, comfortable in the kitchen already, and pulled down a stack of plates to set nect to the warming dishes and plates that held all of the food he'd prepared. It wasn't long before most of the residents of the mansion found their way from their bedrooms and into the kitchen, drawn by the smell of fresh coffee and a home cooked meal. Unlike dinner breakfast was never a very formal affair. Some chose to take their spoils formal dining room to linger over a plate and some conversation. Some ignored the cooked breakfast completely and grabbed quick bars and toaster pastries from the cabinets before they vacated for workouts or whatever else they'd already planned. There was a trip to the beach planned by a number of the teenagers, if Logan remembered correctly. They and the adult chaperones would probably be leaving within the hour, but getting that many kids ready to go was always an exercise in patience with chaos. No wonder they didn't have time to sit and eat. Quite a few more than either other option grabbed plates and stood around talking as they ate standing, letting themselves wake up slowly as they laughed quietly and helped the younger ones get plates of their own.

Steve was getting more comfortable, Logan noticed. The younger kids gathered around him, hero-worship in their eyes, but Steve didn't even flinch when they asked about his time with the Avengers and his shield and if they could see it. Logan knew just how heavy a burden leadership of the Avengers and the weight of the shield and title had become from their conversation the night before. There was so much about him that seemed…fragile in a way now. He realized that he'd never really known him. He'd known The Captain, followed him into battle too many times to count. But, even when it was just the two of them The Captain never really went away. He couldn't with a war on. He was going to have to remember that Steve was still a young man and when he finally fully came into his own he and Steve might not mesh together as they once had. But, their relationship was important to him. They'd both work on it and allow themselves to grow and if there ever came a time when they realized they were just too different, Logan would not allow himself to be bitter. Steve had always been and would always be, one of the best things in his life and he was glad to see him look…lighter than he had in all of the years Logan had known him as he answered their questions as diplomatically as possible. Steve was better, more patient, with them than Logan had ever been able to be.

"You're stronger than he is, you know." The voice in his ear startled him for a moment. He'd been so caught up observing Steve he hadn't even noticed Jean behind him, but now that he did he wasn't sure he was entirely comfortable with how close she was, mouth at his ear, practically pressed against his back.

"You spent 70 years without him. He barely lasted three before he fell apart."

Logan shrugged uncomfortably, but didn't turn around to face her, "I forced myself to forget him so I wouldn't fall apart, too. And that happened days after I thought he died. I'd say he's probably the stronger out of the two of us."

"Don't sell yourself short," Jean brushed his ear with her mouth and Logan was certain he hadn't imagined it when she pressed her breasts to his back firmly before she moved to the coffee machine but, he shook the thoughts out of his head. She probably didn't even realize she'd done it. As weird as she'd been since Steve had come and as long and tumultuous as their history was he didn't think that she'd ever intentionally do anything that would interfere with his relationship with Steve or hers with Scott. Things could be better now between them. His attraction was what caused so much strife. Now that he had Steve again his attraction to her wasn't exactly gone. She was still a beautiful, intelligent woman, but everything else paled in comparison with what he felt for Steve. And he had a feeling it always would because even if the worst came to pass Logan knew that now that the Prof knew what all was in his head he wouldn't ever let him forget. Even if he wanted to.

But that is not a worry now, Logan, Chuck's voice in his head was less of a surprise than Jean behind him, Allowing yourself to dwell on such thoughts is enough to drive any man mad. You have him again. Take joy in the fact and do not think on a future that may never come to pass.

Still projecting? Logan knew his mental voice was as chagrinned as he was feeling.

Not nearly as loudly as before, Charles assured him, It is not a burden to keep your thoughts from the others until you strengthen your shields. When you and Steven have finished your breakfast would you mind joining me in my study?

Sure, Chuck. Why didn't you just ask Steve yourself?

As I have come to understand it, Steven's only experience with telepaths since his awakening has not been exactly pleasant. I didn't want to distress him.

Logan felt his lips quirk in a small smile. It was kind of funny how Chuck didn't think twice about reading Logan's thoughts and communicating with him telepathically, but was hesitant to do the same with Steve. He slipped up to the counter behind Steve where he now stood hand washing the dishes resulting from preparing the food. He set his hands to Steve's hips and placed a chaste kiss to the back of his neck before wrapping his arms around him and setting his chin to Steve's shoulder. Steve stopped scrubbing and leaned back in Logan's embrace, sighing happily. Logan knew just how soppy they were being and how in normal circumstances both of them would have been embarrassed by themselves, but there were only so many miracles allowed in a life. They'd both used up any that had been allotted to them. He knew they could both feel it. Steve surviving long enough to be found again and being united again. Two miracles if ever he saw them and he'd seen few in all his long years. He didn't care how soppy it was. He was going to be as loving and in as much physical contact with Steve as he wanted to be until he stopped expecting to wake from a dream.

"Haven't gotten used to dishwashers yet." Steve admitted quietly after a moment. Logan hummed and pressed another kiss to the side of his neck.

"When you're done, Prof wants to speak with us."

"Best not to keep him waiting, then." Ororo's smooth voice brought them both out of their trance. They turned as one to see her smiling at them gently, Remy just behind her, not quite smiling but much more relaxed than he'd been the night before, "We can take over. You did cook. It is only fair."

"Thank you, Ororo," Steve wiped his hand dry on a cloth. He hesitated as he was handing the cloth over to her and Logan had to stop himself from doing the same when he watched Remy tense.

"Problem, mon ami?" he asked.

"No, no problem," Steve assured, he took a deep breath and blew it back out, "I just…If you don't mind, Ororo, I'd like to help in your gardens. I don't know much about helping things grow, but I'd like to try my hand at it."

"Anytime, my friend," Ororo's voice was pleasantly surprised and very warm, "I would welcome the company. There are few here who have the patience for gardening. I am in my gardens most afternoons after my classes have let out."

"Thank you." The relief in Steve's voice was palpable and for a moment Logan saw the boy from Brooklyn still not used to the twice as big body and scared of the power given him by the military that he'd first gotten to know. Under all the command, all of the strength, was just Steve. Steve who didn't back down from a fight and still didn't understand what it was Dr. Erskine saw in him that made him decide to make him the subject of hi experiment. And Steve didn't have many friends, didn't know how to make them. He drew people to him, but reaching out was hard for him. Him reaching out to Ororo was a big step for him and Ororo reaching right back...Logan gripped her hand for a moment in thanks as they stepped by on their way out. She smiled at him from under her lashes and winked. A perceptive woman, was Ororo. Logan couldn't wipe the grin off of his face as he and Steve made their way to the professor's office, hand in hand.

"Please come in, gentlemen," The professor's voice automatically put Steve on alert, Logan could tell by the way he straightened, then stood almost at parade rest in from of the professor's desk.

"Good lord," The professor startled slightly when he looked up from his book, "I'm not about to give you orders, Steven. I'm about to offer you a job."

"A job?" Steve was surprised enough to fall out of form.

"Yes," The professor smiled and motioned for them to sit, "A job. We are not just the X-Men here, Steven. We also run a school. Not all of the children will become X-Men. Not all of them should have to and it is our job to prepare them as best we can for whatever path they choose in life. With your…unique perspective on history…the era of your birth and then having to learn all of the time between once you awoke…I can think of no one else better suited to teach the children their history lessons. Our current teacher does not find it very enjoyable." The professor glanced over at Logan with a raised eyebrow.

"You?" Steve turned to Logan and tried to cover his gasping laugh with his hand.

"I ain't that bad," Logan moaned, "Thanks, Chuck."

"Logan, my great affection for you personally and all of your many experiences through the years you are meant to teach not withstanding, you are a terrible teacher. I do believe Steven's personality and his patience will be much better suited to teaching and you need no longer suffer or make the children suffer your…classes."

"I think I've just been insulted," Logan leaned against the wall and nodded to Steve to take a seat. He couldn't help but grin at the way Steve was still trying to cover up snorting giggles with his hand.

"And I was trying to be so subtle about it," The professor dead-panned and sent Steve into a round of full, deep belly laughs that had his knees weak and forced him to take the seat Logan had suggested.

"I was hoping to learn how to help things grow," Steve said after a moment, when he'd calmed himself enough to speak, "Gardens and kids. Seems like a good match. I'd be happy to teach, Professor Xavier."

"Charles, please," the professor responded warmly, "I am happy to hear it. These are the books we've been using. If there are others you'd like to add to the curriculum you are more than welcome to do so. There are certain topics the state requires are covered so that the children do well on the required tests, but we don't like to focus on just the stories in the typical history books. We try to be more comprehensive in our views of the past…"

Logan watched silently as the professor went over the class expectations with Steve and couldn't help the contented smile on his face at Steve's concentration. Whatever his love did, Logan had to admit, he threw himself into it wholeheartedly. He was glad to see Steve was finding things already that were going to allow him to become the kind of man he'd always wanted to be. And maybe, he'd finally see what everyone else saw when they looked at him. Realizing Steve and the prof were probably going to be talking for a while Logan quietly excused himself from the office. Maybe he could hunt Beast up for a danger room session. Now that he knew he wasn't going to have to teach anymore he was feeling a surge of happy energy he wanted to get out. Tearing apart some holograms would be just the thing.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve learns more about Kurt, admits some things about himself, and begins some true healing with James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply.
> 
> This is not where I intended this to go, but it's where it went. I took liberty with Nightcrawler's background in that I made most of it up. There's a lot of mental anguish in this chapter, but soon we'll get through to a much happier place. I hope it's not too off-putting.
> 
> Warnings: There is a semi-graphic description of a mob murdering people and attempting to lynch a mutant in this chapter. It is dark. Please do not read if this is going to trigger something for you.

"Captain Rogers?"

Steve drew in a deep breath and blinked hard at the quiet voice at his side. It felt almost like he was coming awake after a deep sleep. It took him a moment to realize that he'd paused in his task of weeding the flowerbed at the front of the mansion, still on his knees, his arms resting comfortably on his thighs. His mind hadn't been in the flowers and the earth as it usually was when he came to the gardens. He'd been too angry, too hurt, to really focus. And it had only been when he'd realized he was pulling up as many young plants as he was weeds that he'd taken a deep breath, taken his hands out of the soil and sat back on his heels, breathing deeply. He'd taken up meditation with Bruce shortly after their first battle as a team and had found it extremely helpful in settling him and organizing his thoughts, but he hadn't felt the need to do it on a regular basis since he'd finally found a life that he felt he could call his own. He'd forgotten just how easy it could be for him to slip into a full meditative trance, lost to the world and everything in it, focusing inward.

Perhaps he should have been meditating more, he mused, free from anger at the moment. Finding James alive had been the happiest moment of his life as far as he could remember and for a few weeks being together had been blissful, but recently all they seemed to do was fight. Fight over everything. The smallest things seemed to get under Steve's skin and he found himself being cruel for the sake of being cruel, hitting James where he knew it would hurt the worst and he couldn't even say why. Yet another fight, and an unfinished one at that, was why he'd come to the garden in the first place. Gardening was something that he'd found relaxed him and was the closest thing he'd found to meditation without actually meditating. But, he'd been so wound up, unable to come to some sort of resolution with James, positive or negative, because James had been called away on an alert, that it hadn't helped this time. But, obviously the meditation had. And he was glad. His personal problems with James were not something to put on someone else.

He looked up, momentarily blinded by the sun, and shaded his eyes so that he could see who was speaking to him. A small smile curved his lips without him having to think about it to see Kurt Wagner in front of him. He'd become close with Kurt over the time he'd been at the mansion. There was something about the quiet, studious young man that reflected the very nature of Steve's own soul back at him. He was comfortable around Kurt. It didn't matter if they were speaking, in English or in German, or if they were simply sitting in the silence, lost in their own thoughts or their own reading. Steve was still working to catch up on everything he'd missed now that he really had the downtime for it, and Kurt was intellectual by nature, with a constant thirst for knowledge. Steve felt almost how he imagined Bucky had felt about him all of those years ago. Kurt was like a younger brother to him and he was glad that the young man felt comfortable enough to come to him when it was so obvious that he kept himself apart from so many at the mansion. Some of it had to do with his appearance, Steve knew. But, he even kept himself away from Hank whose mutation was the only other so obvious among the residents of the mansion. But, Steve didn't blame him on that level. Hank McCoy was a great man, but he was often so lost in his intellectual pursuits and his thinking was on such a high level that it could be hard to have a conversation with the man on an every day topic.

"Kurt," Steve sat back in the grass and motioned for Kurt to do the same, "I've told you before to call me Steve. I'm not a captain anymore, in the army or otherwise."

"Right," Kurt said quietly, distractedly, as he crouched down. Steve knew it was the most comfortable position for him, due to his unique bone structure and didn't push for him to sit. He raised an eyebrow at the way Kurt's tail was swiping back and forth in agitation.

"What's on your mind, Kurt?"

"I…" Kurt swallowed hard and looked away before beginning again, "Do you think I am a coward?"

"What?" Steve was genuinely surprised by the question, but sorry that he'd been so forceful in the way he said the word when Kurt flinched away and didn't look back at him. He forced himself to gentle his tone, "What would make you think something like that, Kurt?"

"I…before I came here…my parents did everything they could to shield me from the hatred of mutants for so much of my life. I didn't realize that by never letting me go out, by making my face look more mask-like before every show, they were trying to protect me. If they could make the people who were coming to see the circus believe that it was just a mask, and my act was smoke and mirrors, then no one would question. I…I didn't appreciate that until it was too late." He sniffled and for a moment Steve was reminded just how young Kurt really was. A very young man just out of childhood. He swiped a hand under his nose and Steve offered him the handkerchief he still kept in his pocket. Kurt took it and began to play with it, but didn't use it, looking down at the scrap of cloth in his hands.

"How much do you know about the circumstances the professor found me in?"

"Not much," Steve admitted, "I tend not to ask until someone's ready to share. It's not really my place."

That brought a small smile to Kurt's face, but he still couldn't look at Steve, "I never understood why my parents kept me away from others. They never let me have much technology and constantly travelling…it was not easy to get it. So, the hatred, the vitriol, normal people have for mutants, especially those of us who cannot pass for human…I did not understand it. I just thought they were keeping me hidden away because they wanted to control me when all I wanted to do was see the outside world, wanted to be away from the circus, wanted to go to school with people my own age."

"It's something any young man would want, Kurt," Steve put a hand on his shoulder, already sensing where their conversation was headed.

"Yes…but not any young man would have snuck out that night. I went to a teens dance club. There are many still in Germany. For a time everything was fine. I danced. I was having fun. I thought everyone else was just ignoring me. But, I was wrong. I didn't know that I'd been noticed, didn't see the ugly stares, until someone hit me over the head with a bottle. Severe concussion, I found out later. But in the moment the only thing I could think was that I had to get back to the circus, where I'd always been safe. With my head…I could only teleport a few yards at a time. I led them right to my family. I wasn't aware of much, but…the ringmaster, Duncan, and my parents…they tried to talk them down. But…"

"But, a mob in full force can be dangerous," Steve finished for him.

Kurt nodded again and looked up briefly. Steve could see the tear tracks in his soft fur, "They demanded I be handed over. And when they refused…they shot them. The rest of the cast couldn't protect me. Some of them had children, too. I don't blame them for hiding. I can remember only a little. My mother sobbing as she covered my body with her own after watching my father fall. Duncan…seeing his body jerk as he ran toward them, roaring…so loud…I found out later they'd shot him six times before he went down. They shot my mother as she sought to protect me. The bullet went through her back, through her heart, and into my shoulder. Small favors…it killed her instantly. Me…they…I can remember how rough the rope was around my neck. I can remember the feel of it biting into my flesh and the terror of being lifted from my feet, dangling in the air as they laughed. So much hatred."

He was trembling and Steve couldn't stop himself any longer. He wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulders and pulled the slight young man into his lap, tucking his head under his chin and wrapping him up in his large arms, as if he could protect him from the memories just by holding him. Kurt was stiff for a moment, but relaxed when he realized Steve's intent. He tucked his arms into his body and pulled his legs in, making himself as small as possible in the embrace.

"I was not awake for this, but I was told later that a priest stopped them. He'd been taking a walk and…I don't know how he did it, but he calmed them, somehow shamed them into letting me down. He and the nuns from the parish he served collected me, brought me in, gave me sanctuary. They nursed me when the hospital would not take me. They buried my parents and Duncan. By the time I was aware of what had happened Professor Xavier had heard of the demon in Germany and realized what I was. I did not take him up on his offer immediately. But, I could see it would only be a matter of time before the people would no longer allow Father and the sisters to keep me as their little pet. To keep them safe I accepted the Professor's offer to come to America. And it has been wonderful to be here at the mansion. There's a cathedral not too far from here. I attend mass, as I did in Germany, in the rafters, of course, the shadows. But, I…" His voice broke and Steve rocked slowly.

"Take your time, Kurt."

It was several long minutes before Kurt spoke again, "The more I study, the more I learn, and the more I see of the world, the more I know that I…I am not capable of hate. I cannot hate those who hurt me. I cannot hate those who keep hurting mutants. I want to forgive them, and the professor supports me, but I see those I love going out when the hatred is spread and they fight it. I…I get in the danger room and I freeze. I cannot…The only thing I can smell is the alcohol from the bottle that broke over me, the blood. I…cannot…"

"Kurt," Steve stopped him when his tone and breathing took on a hysterical edge, "That's not cowardice. It took me a long time to realize it in myself. My best friend growing up, Bucky…"

"The Winter Soldier?"

"Yeah. But, not always. Before he was The Winter Soldier he was just Bucky. My best friend, my brother, the only person who'd always had my back, even before the serum. He became The Winter Soldier because I wasn't strong enough, wasn't fast enough, to save him. And I thought he died. There are still times when the wind blows just right or I'm standing a certain way when the only thing I can see is Bucky falling from that train. And it brings me to my knees. I understand not being able to fight, Kurt, because I can't bring myself to do it anymore, either."

"What?" Kurt pulled away from the embrace slightly and Steve looked right into his eyes, letting Kurt see the truth in his.

"I fought it for three years, tried to pretend. In the war I did what I had to do, but I came back broken, Kurt, and I can't bear to be used as a weapon any longer. The professor understands it. He's helping me work through the flashbacks, the guilt. Medication helps, too. You can't be afraid to ask Charles for help. He knows I'll never be a member of the X-Men. He accepts it. He doesn't think any less of me. He wouldn't think any less of you. Who made you feel like you had to fight?"

Kurt shook his head and buried it against Steve's chest again and Steve had a feeling he knew who had made Kurt feel the way he did and it made him so angry he could barely see straight but his anger wasn't what mattered at the moment. Kurt's comfort was what mattered.

"You don't have to fight, Kurt. It doesn't mean you don't care about our friends. It doesn't mean you don't care about mutants. There are plenty of people in history who have changed the world by refusing fight."

Kurt nodded and shivered against him and Steve held him closer, knowing Kurt was listening and hearing him, "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't be prepared. We live dangerous lives in our association with the X-Men. I know there are a lot of the kids, and some of the other adults who don't intend to fight, but maybe we…would you like to help me teach a defensive fighting course for those of us who won't train, won't be X-Men? We all still need to know how to protect ourselves and the children if the worst should happen."

"I think…I think if it was to protect the children…if I could tell myself that is why I am training…I think I could do that." Kurt whispered. Steve pressed a kiss to his hair, feeling every inch the older brother Kurt had taken him on as.

"We'll take it slow," he promised.

Steve breathed deep as he rocked Kurt gently, the young man exhausted from his emotional sharing. He thought back to the fight he'd had with James before Kurt had come to him. He'd been so angry this morning when James had left with the other X-Men. So angry that the man he loved was going to keep fighting. They'd had so many dreams when they were young, they'd whispered together of the day the war ended when they'd get themselves a plot of land in the Canadian wilderness near where James had been born, build their own house, take care of themselves and maybe a couple of horses, just allow themselves to be normal…no more fighting, no more causes. He didn't know why he'd thought that those dreams could still come true. He knew it wasn't realistic any longer. James was too involved with the X-Men. They needed him and he needed them. He would never admit it out loud, but Charles' dream of a better world where humans and mutants lived peacefully had become his. He was fighting for that dream as much as he was fighting for his friends. But, the thought that the cause and the lives of his friends were more important to him than a seventy year old dream with Steve had made him irrationally angry and they'd fought. Steve was ashamed now. He couldn't say that Kurt, and himself, weren't cowards for not wanting to fight if he told James that he was selfish for needing to. The regret for the harsh words, the accusations, he'd thrown at James before he left and put himself in danger yet again to protect people he cared about, was overwhelming. He swallowed hard and allowed a couple of his own tears to fall.

He'd been angry so often lately and taking out all of it on James, even though most of the anger had nothing to do with James. It was everything he'd suppressed over three years that had manifested itself in a black depression. Now that he was more balanced it was manifesting itself as something new. Anger, an anger so great it threatened to overtake him, and resentment. And he was directing it all at the person he loved the most in the world. He could admit it now, even if just to himself. The medication and talking to the professor, working through his war experiences, weren't enough. He was pushing away the best thing that had ever happened to him. And it he allowed himself to continue as he was he was going to lose James. Even the thought of it stabbed into his heart and made him feel as if he were going to gag. He took in a shaky breath and let it out. He needed to change. And he needed help to do it.

Hours later, after he'd made sure Kurt had eaten something and put the exhausted young man to bed, he sat in the dark, a tumbler of clear liquor in his hand, and couldn't look up at James when he came into their shared room.

"Steve," James growled, already on the defensive, as he began to remove his gloves, "Don't know why you bother. Unless something's changed you haven't told me about you can't get drunk, bub."

"It's Asgardian liquor," Steve said quietly, "It was a gift from Thor when I left. I needed it. I…James…" He looked up and winced at the expression on James' face. He wasn't angry. He was resigned. And Steve realized just how often he'd started fights since they'd come back together. And how deeply it was wounding James.

"James," he repeated, "I'm sorry."

"What?" James' face was unreadable, no expression now to give away what he was thinking.

"I'm sorry. I…can't…I haven't been very good at this. Being back together with you. You're the only thing I've wanted since I woke up and I think I've been resenting the fact that you're not the same person you were when I went into the ice. So, I've been punishing you."

"I can't be that man anymore, Steve," James sat on their bed and dropped his face into his hands, "I know it was an instant for you, but I had to take the long road. So much has happened."

"I know," Steve nodded, "And I think I resented you for that, too."

"Steve, if you're going to resent the fact that I didn't go into the ice with you our entire lives than this isn't going to work! You didn't give me a chance to go into the ice with you, damn it! You made damn well sure that I wasn't on that plane with you!" For a moment Steve saw a hint of the wildman James had been when they first met as James looked up at him and bared his teeth.

"I know," he said quietly, and put a hand on James' knee, "I realized that today. Kurt…he told me about what happened to his parents, how he lost everyone and everything he knew in an instant. And he…He's so young, James, but he is so much wiser than I feel like I'll ever be. He doesn't even resent the castmates who hid while his parents were killed and an angry mob tried to lynch him. He doesn't even resent the mob. And I realized, if we're ever going to make this work than I have to stop expecting you to be someone you can't be any longer and love you for who you are now. Because I do. I do love you." Steve slid out of his chair and to his knees, setting aside his glass in favor of covering both of James' knees with his hands.

"I love you, too," James said quietly, covering Steve's hands with his own, "And I…I need to let go of the anger. I can't resent you for choices you made. They're over."

"I need help, James. More than I've been letting the professor give me. I'm so…my head is mess." The words were hard to force out, but Steve could see how much of a burden they lifted from James' shoulders. He sat straighter for a moment as if Steve pretending he was so much better than he was had been a physical burden on him that was finally being relieved. It gave Steve hope that he hadn't ruined things beyond fixing just yet.

"No more than mine," James slid onto his knees and wrapped his arms around Steve.

"I wouldn't blame you if you thought it wasn't worth it. It's going to be hard and I'm going to screw up and, despite my best intentions right now, I know that there are going to be times when I'm going to fight you and resent you and hurt you just because I can."

"It's no worse than I've done," James stroked a hand through his hair, "We're both going to screw this up, Steve, but I…it's worth it to me. We'll find a healthy place together. You're worth the time, and the pain. You always have been. Hate to break it to you, bub, but you've always been messed up. It wasn't seventy years in the ice and then three years of suicidal thoughts that did this to you."

Steve snorted, though it ended on a sob, and clutched James to him, "You're one to talk, Mr. My mind blocks everything that makes me vaguely uncomfortable. You're just as big a mess as me."

James chuckled darkly and kissed Steve's hair, "You're right."

The held each other silently for what could have been moments or an hour before Steve spoke again.

"James…I…I can't be an X-Man. I'm not…I'm not strong enough."

"Steve, you're one of the strongest men I know, "James said quietly," But I get it. You never intended to fight as long as you did. And there's no shame in that. You fought your fight. Be the peacetime man we always talked about. Be a teacher. Be my…my husband."

"Marriage isn't going to fix us," Steve said pulling back slightly so that he could look into James' eyes.

"You're right," James smiled, not with his mouth as much as with his eyes. "So, not yet. But, promise me when we both feel ready, you'll say yes."

Steve laid his head back against his lover's chest and closed his eyes, letting the heartbeat under his ear reassure him that someday everything might be all right.

"Someday," He promised.

"Someday," James echoed.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply
> 
> I had a hard time with this for a while. I'd made Jean and Logan a bigger deal than I wanted them to be and the story just wasn't coming. It's in a better spot now, so a short chapter to resolve Jean and Logan tension and then back to the main event. I really don't like Jean Grey, if you weren't able to tell previously. If you do like her, I apologize. This chapter is not favorable to her character. Thank you to anyone still willing to read this. :)

Logan wasn't sure what brought him out of his dreams, but he was awake before his senses could catch up to his state of consciousness. It took him a moment to calm the racing of his heart, brought on by whatever it was that tore him out of sleep. When he finally stopped breathing and started scenting and listening he realized exactly what it was that woke him and he turned immediately to take Steve in his arms. His lover was holding himself as stiff as a board, all of his muscles taunt and strained, the only movement at all in his body the fine tremors that ran through it every other second or so. He was barely breathing, taking in barely enough breath to lift his chest in panicked little gasps that coincided with his tremors. His skin was cold as ice as Logan wrapped himself around him, his chest to Steve's back, and rubbed his hands up and down Steve's chest, trying to bring some semblance of warmth back to his lover's body to bring him out of his nightmare. Steve had had the same nightmare multiple times since he'd come back to Logan, but as they settled back into their relationship, as they worked on coming to know and love each other as they were and forgiving each other for long held resentments without merit, the nightmares were farther and farther between. Since they'd finally admitted that they needed help and allowed themselves to seek out that help Steve hadn't had a single one. Logan should have known that it was too good to last.

"Come on, sweetheart," he murmured, placing a kiss to the back of Steve's neck, "Come back to me now. I'm right here, Steve. Right here in New York. We're at the mansion where you teach. You don't fight anymore, sweetheart. You haven't had to fight for a long time. You're home, sweetheart. Not in the ice any more. You're with me. Come back to me now."

He kept up the gentle murmurs, rubbing warmth back into Steve's skin, and pressing gentle kisses to the back of his neck, his cheek, his temple and waited for them to start having an effect on his lover. It took what felt like forever before his words started to reach Steve, but Logan could tell when they did. He finally started to take some deeper breaths, matching his breathing to Logan's. Then, the shivers tremors became more pronounced for a time before they finally tapered off completely. Finally Logan felt tentative hands cover his own as Steve hugged his arms close to his chest. Logan knew that Steve was crying softly as he kept up his string of nonsense comforts, but he didn't stop. After his brain made him think his worst nightmare had come true again he couldn't begrudge Steve the need to release the emotion, both good and bad, as he worked on releasing his muscles one by one. It was a long, painful process and Logan held him through it.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" He asked after nearly an hour, when he knew Steve was as relaxed as he'd get before Logan massaged the remaining tension out of his body as he always did after an episode like this.

"I'm okay," Steve whispered, then again like he was trying to convince himself, "I'm okay."

"Will you be okay alone for a few minutes while I go heat up some massage oil?"

Steve made a noise from the back of his throat somewhere between a hum and a sob and briefly held Logan's arms to him tighter. Then, released them completely with a small nod. Logan pressed another kiss to his temple, pulled their blanket up to Steve's neck and slipped out of the bed. He pulled on a pair of flannel bottoms he'd carelessly thrown to the side of the bed before they slept and grabbed the extra blanket they kept on the window seat for exactly this purpose before going around the bed and spreading it over Steve. He stepped into their bathroom for a moment to grab their massage oil and then knelt by the bed at Steve's head for a moment. His lover was still looking a little panicked, eyes wide and face pale, but he smiled bravely when Logan ran a hand through his hair and down his cheek. Logan smiled when he caught the hand in his own and pressed a kiss to it.

"I'll be okay for a couple of minutes," Steve assured him, "Could you…could you put on some music?"

"Sure, sweetheart." He turned on Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake as he went out, knowing that after these nightmares Steve needed the comfort of the familiar. His mother had had a recording of selections from Swan Lake that she played on their phonograph when she was happy and hearing it helped Steve remember the happy times with her. Steve gave him a tremulous, but more real smile when he turned back to check on him one more time. He smiled back and made his way down the stairs and toward the kitchen.

He sighed heavily when he caught the only scent he really didn't want to deal with in the middle of the night when his Steve was at his most vulnerable and he at his most primal and protective and pushed the kitchen door open. Jean was seated at the table in a nightgown that left nothing to the imagination sipping a mug of tea. Her hair was in disarray and even without make-up she was still one of the most stunning women he'd ever seen. He knew that in the most high level way Jean was a good person. She truly believed in the Prof's dream of peace between humans and mutants and would fight to make it come true, even give her life to the cause if need be. But, on a personal level she was just as fucked up as the rest of them and part of her screwed up psyche was a pathological need to have Logan want her. Since Steve had been back in his life she'd been doing little things to try to bring his attention back to her, touching him more often, making little remarks meant to tear Steve down in his eyes. She was never openly hostile to Steve, but in the year and half he'd been there she'd never openly welcomed him either. He'd thought maybe it would change when she married Scott nine months previous, but t hadn't. She was still trying to bring his attention back to her. He'd tried to let her down gently for the good of the team, so as not to cause tension when they all needed to trust each other implicitly in the field. When that hadn't worked he'd taken to making sure they were never in the same room alone for any amount of time. And now they were the only ones in the room, it was the middle of the night, and they were both half dressed. He moved to the microwave as quickly as he could and stuck the bottle in to warm, unsurprised when he turned back and found Jean just behind him, leaning against the kitchen island, her breasts thrust forward unconsciously, he was sure, when she was trying to be openly sexual it was more obvious.

"Jean," he nodded to her curtly.

"Logan," she said in return, a smile quirking at the corner of her mouth, "He had another nightmare?"

"First in months," Logan nodded and answered shortly.

"Hmm," She shook her head as if she just couldn't believe it and took a couple of steps toward him, "You know…"

"Save it, Jean," he was done putting up with her immature antics just to keep peace on the team.

"What?" She stepped back as if he'd slapped her and he rolled his eyes at her dramatics.

"Save it," he repeated, "I'm done with all of your bullshit. I love Steve. If you were any kind of friend you'd be happy for me that I got the love of my life back. And the man is a Goddamn war hero. He saw what needed to be done and he fucking did it! When he didn't have the power to do it he found a way to get it. You don't have to like him. You don't have to like that I'm always going to want him over you, but you better start respecting him, Goddamn it, and respecting me. We're done, Jean. You decided you wanted Scott more and, truthfully, even without Steve in the picture he's always going to love you more than I ever could have. So, go back to your husband, Jean. Leave me the fuck alone and let me get back to mine."

Her face was almost as red as her hair and he didn't have to be a telepath to read the embarrassed anger on her face at being called on her behavior. She opened her mouth to say something and he cut her off again with a growl, "He's my fucking husband, Jean. Just because we haven't had the ceremony does make one fucking difference."

He grabbed the massage oil out of the microwave and stomped his way back up the stairs feeling, at once, angry and settled. He was angry that it'd had to come to him confronting her before she would stop, but he was confident that now she would. He paused before the door to his room and took a couple of deep breaths before he stepped back in. Steve needed him to be calm now. Steve needed his comfort, not his anger. When he felt like Steve wouldn't pick up anger from him he stepped back into the room, lit softly by moonlight. In his absence Steve had started to tense again, Logan could see it in the way he was laying, but he wasn't panicking again and that was good. He was humming along to Swan Lake, his eyes closed tightly. Logan turned up the thermostat in their room and made his way over to the bed. Steve took in a gasping breath when Logan gently removed the blankets from the bed. He turned over at Logan's prompting and sighed when Logan began to massage the heated oil into his still cooler than normal skin. As Logan began to work the warm oil into his large muscle groups he finally relaxed completely and his skin warmed and flushed again. When he'd massaged Steve from head to toe and his lover was completely relaxed he helped him drink down a cup of cool water. Then he laid down and covered them both with the blanket. As was normal for these episodes Steve was finally so relaxed that he was barely awake and curled into Logan trustingly. Logan wrapped him in his arms again and rested Steve's head against his heart.

"Love you," Steve slurred as he was falling back asleep.

"I love you, too." Logan murmured. He held Steve close and hummed along with Swan Lake, content that he had taken care of the man the primal side of him had taken as mate and the more human side of him knew he would take as husband some day soon. Knowing he had taken care of Steve was enough to relax him in turn and let him slip into a contented doze as the sun came up.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply.

"Logan's fine. Everyone's fine. No one even has a scratch!" Jubilee called out as she threw open the doors to Steve's classroom without knocking. Not that she ever did to begin with, but she didn't normally announce herself so dramatically or loudly. Steve looked up from the reading he was giving the class from "Testament of Youth" and cocked an eyebrow at the young woman who was just coming to the realization that she'd interrupted a full class right in the middle of the lesson. Steve smiled at her to let her know that all was forgiven before marking where he'd stopped and snapping the book closed.

"Afternoon, Jubilee," He said pleasantly, "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Jubilee flushed a little, but didn't lower her head, not that he'd expected her to in front of the younger kids who both of them knew looked up to her, "Yeah, uh, Wolverine was just on the horn. Asked you to meet him in the hangar when the Blackbird gets in. He told me to tell you that no one's hurt, but he really needs you to be there when the bird touches down."

"Okay." Steve tried to control his suddenly racing heart by taking a deep breath and reminding himself that James told Jubilee to make sure he knew that no one was hurt. He didn't know what was going on, but fair bet that if his husband was asking for him it was something important.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you all have your topic assignments for your World War One presentations. I want you all to research for an hour, work in groups if you'd like, but a solid hour, got it? You can work here or in the library. You give me a solid hour and you're free for the day. You don't give me a solid hour and I'll know it." He looked at them all, looking up at him earnestly and smiled. He'd never tell them that the only reason he knew when they didn't do as he asked was because they always looked so damn guilty, "We'll read more from Ms. Brittain next class."

"You look tired, sweetheart," He commented quietly as he and Jubilee rode down to the lower levels in the reinforced elevator.

The beautiful young woman Logan had taken on as pup as surely as Steve had taken Kurt on as his, making them all family, looked up at Steve with a weary smile, "It's just trying to get ready to test out of the first year bullsh…crap classes on top of trying to take on more responsibility with the X-Men to prove that I can be a mature asset in the field…"

"You're taking on so much, Jubilation," Steve pulled her into a one armed hug and kissed the top of her head when she snuggled into him, "Make sure you take some time for yourself, too. And no more all-nighters followed directly by mission monitor duty, okay? No use putting in all the work if you're just going to burn yourself out doing it, okay?"

"Mmm," She snuggled a little more, "Okay, Pops."

He chuckled and wrapped his arm more securely around her, knowing she was more than half asleep leaning against him. She'd become much more trusting and physically affectionate since he and James had made it official just a couple of months previous. It wasn't that she hadn't been kind or sweet before, but since she and Kurt had stood up with him and James at their request as the professor married them it was like she'd decided that it was okay to be affectionate as well. Thinking back on his wedding day made him smile and he snuggled her a little more tightly.

After months of dancing around what they knew was inevitable as they worked toward a much healthier relationship he and James had finally come to the conclusion as they lay in bed after a robust round of lovemaking that it was time. There was no big proposal, no ridiculous plans to be made. Steve simply said that he thought that it was time and James agreed. They set a date in the late summer before the leaves could start to change, asked all of their friends to endeavor to have the afternoon free, agreed to meet with Tony's tailor for a couple of new suits, and asked a few select people to stand with them. Jubilee and Hank with James and Kurt and Bucky with Steve. They hadn't even set up chairs, just had Charles marry them in a simple ten-minute ceremony under their favorite tree on the grounds with their friends surrounding them and made their way to the large back patio where they cooked on the grills, used the exterior sound system to play a variety of music, and let Tony pay for and bring in entirely too much alcohol. They'd also taken him up on his offer to take a long weekend at his rebuilt Malibu mansion and the three glorious days there had been enough of a honeymoon for both of them.

Then it had been back to the everyday insanity of the mansion that they both loved. Steve had started his training for those in the mansion who needed to learn about the defensive fighting, James continued his work with the X-Men. Sometimes Steve would lend his tactical mind to one of their missions, but only when they didn't have a lot of credible intelligence. This last mission had been one that he'd helped plan because they'd had almost no intel and that had been worrying from the moment he'd sent James off with a kiss. None of them had known what the team was walking into. All they'd known was that Charles had heard a mutant cry out for help mentally and he'd been able to use Cerebro to pinpoint his location before he'd been silenced. As much as Charles hadn't wanted to put his people in danger he hadn't been able to simply ignore the cry for help. Steve was glad to know that all of their people were fine, that no one was coming back injured, but knowing that James wanted him as soon as the plane touched down was still a bit worrying. He sat on a couple of empty cargo crates with Jubilee half on his lap and still half asleep in the hanger for nearly twenty minutes before the bay doors began to open.

He laughed when Jubilee snorted inelegantly as she woke completely and stood with her by his side before the plane opened up and the team began to disembark using the cargo ramp. Ororo gave him a cryptic smile that was echoed by Remy's equally cryptic smirk. Rogue made an unintelligible squeal when she spotted him. Jean ignored him completely while her husband nodded to him in acknowledgement. Before James could disembark Hand had made his way over to Steve.

"He wanted to introduce you to them before he tried to get them out of the plane. They've been clinging to him since…well, I'll allow your husband to tell you the story. Try to make yourself seem smaller, less threatening? They're very skittish."

"What?" He wanted to ask more, but Hank pushed him toward the Blackbird before pulling Jubilee along behind him despite the way she was complaining that she wanted to know what was going on.

As he walked up the ramp his sensitive ears caught something he hadn't heard in years, not since the night after Bucky had fallen from the train and James was trying everything he could to calm the despair Steve was feeling. James was singing. His voice would never win awards, it was scratchy and deep, almost off-key, but to Steve it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard. He crouched down when he spotted James sitting against the wall, huddled between the metal and one of the seats. He wasn't sure, at first, what he was seeing, until James shifted a little and he noticed two very small little ones huddled together next to his husband's strong form. James didn't stop singing, in fact sang a little louder when the girls huddled together with small whimpers of fear. Instinctively, stopped, then sat on his backside, curling his shoulders in to make himself seem smaller. It only took him a moment to recognize the song James was singing and join him quietly, even putting in a bit of harmony.

Slowly, the little ones began to relax and Steve took the time to observe them. Two little girls, he realized first, nearly identical twins from the looks of them. They were gorgeous little things, somewhere between two and four if he had to guess. One had pure white hair and golden eyes, the other had pitch black hair and crystal blue eyes. When one of the little girls pushed her hair behind her ear he noticed they were curved in an elfin fashion. He took a second look and noticed their clothes, or lack thereof. They were both in a pair of stained panties and tank tops that had seen better days. No socks or shoes despite the fact that the weather was beginning to turn cold.

"Okay, little ones," James said gently when the song was over, "This is my husband, Steve. I told you about Steve. I brought you home so that we can both protect you. That's all we want to do. Protect you. No one here is going to hurt you. No one's ever going to hurt you again. Can Steve come a little closer?"

It took nearly an hour before Steve was allowed to sit next to James, nearly another hour before one of the little girls trusted him enough to reach out and touch him. After that it was a fairly short time before Steve was holding one little girl in his arms while James held the other, though the sisters continued to hold hands between them.

"He was keeping them as pets," James said quietly when the girls had fallen asleep, "Sick bastard sought out mutants he thought were beautiful and bred them for their looks, keeping them like they were in some sort of sick zoo. Once they started showing signs of manifesting powers other than their beauty he had them killed. That's what happened to the poor kid Chuck heard. He was manifesting telepathy. Guy had him killed before we go there. When we showed up he started…God...he was force-feeding them poison. They weren't the only ones left, but near enough to it. I got them out of an oversized birdcage and I just couldn't…they were crying and looking up at me with those eyes and they smelled like mine, like ours, and …I couldn't just leave them there, even though some mutant-friendly volunteers were coming for the rest. I…I had to bring them home, Steve. I…"

Steve smiled at his husband's ramblings, knowing how deep and beautiful a heart the gruff exterior hid.

"James…" He pressed a kiss to husband's mouth, then pressed their foreheads together when one of the girls let out a little sigh, "You did the right thing." He looked down at their little girls in their arms and felt his heart swell to accommodate the love he was already feeling for them, a love he knew would only grow.

"You brought our girls home," he liked how the sound of it felt in his mouth before he kissed James again, "It was definitely the right thing."


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas at the mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All previous disclaimers apply.
> 
> I know it's been a while. I kind of loss drive for this one for a bit. To hopefully get back into it here's a fluff chapter from Charles' POV. Everyone loves the holidays, right? If you're still reading, I hope you like it.

The snow was falling gently, adding to the unbroken white blanket already on the ground. The moonlight struggled weakly through the snow clouds and gave just enough illumination to make the ground sparkle. There was no peace like the peace of a winter's night when the sounds and colors were muted by snow and one only had to look to feel the same peace settle. Charles sighed and looked out of his office window for a few moments more, taking a last measure of peace before the wonderful chaos to come. Because all the world was as still and quiet outside as it was celebratory and boisterous inside. He turned away from the window, away from the winter melancholy, and made his way out of his office to where his children were gathered in the great room.

The day had begun, as it did every year, almost as soon as the sun rose, with the youngest among them running to and fro, from their rooms to the great bannister overlooking the Christmas wonder of the tree that was suddenly surrounded by gifts and treats of all kinds. They tried to be kind and let the adults sleep, but their excitement could not be contained and the whispers and glee inevitably woke everyone within a quarter hour. Charles himself had gone into the kitchen just a short time after it all began and had felt absurdly grateful when Steven was there already and pressed a cup of strong tea, blonde and just slightly sweetened to his preference, into his hands before turning back to his self-appointed task of making cinnamon rolls.

"Bless you," Charles had murmured, "I tell myself every year that we need to put automatic locks on the doors until at least seven."

"Won't argue with you there," Steven had chuckled as he slipped the pan into the oven, "The girls were up with the sun just like the rest of them. James bundled them up and took them and some of the other kids outside to work off some of the nervous energy. Come look."

Charles had gone to the French doors that Steven indicated and couldn't help but feel his heart settle and melt a little at the same time when he saw the scene. Logan, Hank, Jubilee, and Kurt were playing in the snow with a dozen of the youngest, ranging in age from four to twelve. Kurt was showing the youngest of them how to make snow angels while the older children were having a very energetic snowball fight with the other three. The smiles and pink cheeks, the laughter and genuine happiness, was enough to put peace in Charles' heart. If ever he questioned his path, he would bring this memory up and know that the happiness of the children was everything.

Breakfast had been simple in respect to the meal that would be had later and Charles was stunned to see just how Steven had executed the day as if he was executing one of his battle plans. The cinnamon rolls were consumed before presents were torn into. A Christmas movie marathon was shown just after, trays of snacks to tide over hunger left around the great room and the dining room while the dinner was prepared. Steven, Ororo, Remy and Jean were hardly seen for the next few hours as they sequestered themselves in the kitchen. Charles had worried at having Steven and Jean in such close quarters for a significant part of the day, but Steven was graceful in his disregard of her iciness, as he always was, and she seemed to put it aside in deference to the day and the happiness of those surrounding them.

Whenever he did take time away from the kitchen Steven could be found kissing his husband gently under the mistletoe hung in so many of the doorways, mostly by Jubilee, or taking a moment to play with one of his girls with one of the new toys they'd gotten. They were still uncertain in their play, never having had toys before, or reason for imagination, but with the love Steve and Logan were lavishing upon them they were blossoming. They were lovely, sweet little ones. They'd never had names, simply called Blue and Gold, after their eye color by the man who'd held them captive all their lives. Logan had taken care of that right away, surprising them all with the romance of the names. The little one with black hair was dubbed Arwen and the little girl with white hair was quickly named Eowyn. Logan had just gruffly shrugged off how much he liked Tolkien's work. Steven had just kissed him and the girls seemed to enjoy their new names, taking to them right away. They still didn't talk much and when they were confronted with new people they didn't talk at all, hiding behind their fathers, but they had come such a long way in such a short time. They'd filled out beautifully with good food and, while they still tired quickly, were gaining strength day by day.

It had been a joy to see them sitting between Logan and Steven at dinner in the beautiful matching dresses of dark red and black Christmas plaid, hair prettily curled and done up in ribbons. He'd looked around the table at all of his children, Jubilee and Kurt laughing quietly together over some private joke, Jean and Scott somewhat tense, Remy and Ororo sitting close together whispering the secret he would allow them to keep until they were ready to share, Hank and Rogue simply taking it all in with smiles on their faces. And the children. All of the children he loved more than life itself. The conversation around the table had quieted when he'd lifted his glass and everyone else had lifted theirs in response.

"Happy Christmas to us all," He'd said in lieu of a prayer.

"Merry Christmas!" The exuberant call back to him had brought a tear to his eye.

He didn't have a Christmas dinner in his memory that he'd enjoyed more. Not just the company, but the food. He'd eaten more than his fair share and everyone at the table had complimented the four chefs until all were practically glowing with satisfaction at a job well done and appreciated. The table was a good deal lighter when the plates were finally cleared away and Charles was happy to dry dishes next to Ororo as she washed. Her quiet happiness always made him feel so very peaceful.

"How far along?" He asked quietly, making certain no one could hear them. He knew Ororo had had problems carrying in the past and she and Remy were holding their breath waiting for the most uncertain time to pass. It would not do for Ororo's private pain to become public it this pregnancy, too, ended in the same unhappy way.

"Just shy of sixteen weeks." Ororo smiled gently, "Past the most dangerous time, but we still want to wait a few more weeks before announcing just in case."

"Of course," Charles took her hand, setting the wet plate she handed him on his lap, before kissing her palm.

"I love you very much, Ororo."

"And I you, Charles," She said simply and then they turned back to their task. After he'd helped with the dishes he'd needed a little time alone and sat in his office, keeping the light off, and simply admiring the snow-covered landscape. He wasn't surprised when the gentle voice in his head interrupted his thoughts.

Happy Christmas, Charles.

He smiled a little bitterly, Happy Chanukah, my friend.

He allowed himself ten more minutes of melancholy before he took a deep breath and turned back to his children. As he left his office he was immediately assaulted and commandeered by the children to play one of the games that they had been gifted. He was hopeless at the gaming system, and they knew it, but he felt he went about losing in a spectacular and dignified manner. When he was deemed to have gotten the lowest score anyone had ever managed he took a bow to the shrieking laughter of the children and excused himself with good humor. He accepted a cup of the strongly spiked eggnog and made a note to make certain that Rogue and Remy had aspirin and water available to them before they took their rest as they seemed to be engaged in some kind of drinking competition with Hank, none of them bothering with the eggnog any longer, simply drinking right from a bottle of spiced bourbon. They should have known after so many years living with the man that Hank's metabolism would allow him to drink much more than they, but they never seemed to learn. They all looked like they were having a good time, anyway.

Ororo was curled up on one of the couches with a half dozen children lazing around her like puppies as they watched another movie. Half of them were asleep and he knew would have to be carried up to bed. Scott and Jean were curled up together on the loveseat, for one seeming at peace in their marriage. He sighed over them a little. He'd known intellectually just how emotionally stunted Jean could be, but he'd hoped that her marriage would mature her, instead it just seemed to be bring both her and Scott tension and discord. The moments of peace were the exception, not the rule. He loved them both so dearly. Perhaps after the new year he would approach them about talking with someone, a colleague if they didn't feel comfortable talking directly with him. One he knew would not tell them it was best for them to remain together if it wasn't. Jubilee and Kurt were bent over a chess board and he stopped to share strategy with them for a time, pleased at how far both of their games had come.

When he looked up from the game he was greeted by one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever had the pleasure of witnessing. Steven was laying on the oversized chaise lounge, his girls curled up on either side of him, all of them fast asleep, while Logan was seated behind them all, supporting them against his broad chest, reading quietly out loud from A Christmas Carol. The hand not holding the book was laid protectively over Steven's chest, fingers splayed just over his heart. Charles took a quick picture of the sight on the phone he'd only recently consented to carrying and then made his way over quietly and sat next to the chaise, simply listening as Logan's gruff, loving voice finished the tale. They sat for a time in quiet before Charles reached out and put a hand to Logan's shoulder.

"Are you happy, Logan?"

It was a question he'd asked many times over the years, with various responses, some that devastated him, some that gave him hope, but none that had filled his heart as Logan's answer this time did.

"More than I ever thought possible, Chuck," he answered honestly.

"I am glad to hear it. You have a beautiful family."

"I do," he agreed. They sat for a time more before Logan said quietly, "Merry Christmas, Chuck."

"Happy Christmas, Logan," He turned to look at all of his children again, all now in various stages of sleepiness, some being carried up the grand staircase to their rest and he sighed in content, "Happy Christmas, indeed."


End file.
